Stigmata
by Dana Daidouji
Summary: A father with a scientific approach to things of faith is sent to investigate a young stigmata and quench the media after a frightening event in a subway train that's wrecking havoc inside the Catholic Church. A tale of deceit, truth, faith and love.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: this story is based on the movie Stigmata and the characters of Card Captor Sakura on both of which I hold no claim. This is for entertaining purposes only.

**Stigmata**

_Prologue_

In a little town deep inside Brazil a crowd of people saturated the dirt roads. Many of them carried on their backs big cruxes of heavy wood and dressed like Jesus of Nazareth while others walked on their knees with candles in their hands completely dressed in white. The common expression was that of suffering and their eyes held a glassed-over effect linked to that of profound feeling; a feeling so deep that made you numb.

Inside the crowd, mixed in with the townspeople was a man who looked every-bit the tourist. If not by his coloring, his clothes easily gave him away; that with the dark pants made of durable fabric, black cotton shirt coupled with a jacket of the same color and brown utility boots. He sported Ray-Ban shades in an Aviator style on his aquiline nose that covered his eyes entirely and hid most of the upper part of his face. He followed the reenacting crowd into a church where he promptly headed towards a priest.

"Who's in charge?" - Asked the man in English heavily accented with a British intonation.

"Father Maurice," - replied another with haste looking visibly anxious.

"Please take me to him," - the church was bursting at its seams with people.

"He passed on, this is his funeral," - the Father signaled a coffin located at the center of the altar, "are you the one they sent to investigate?"

"Yes."

The young priest looked more relaxed now that the person he had been waiting for had finally arrived. He guided the newcomer efficiently through the throng of people and towards the alter where the body of the late priest peacefully laid at the feet of a Virgin Mary statue crying tears of blood before burial.

The foreigner set promptly to work, tuning out the chants and indignant stares of the people who thought it to be an intrusion to their sacred prayers. He hit the pedestal with his bare hands and then a metal stick trying to find it hollow but the sound came out dry. Standing up, he did the same with the statue itself with the same result. His eyes where transfixed on the empty ones of the statue that had trails of thick red liquid down its cheeks emanating from its eyes as if it was actually crying.

He took a Canon professional camera from his backpack and took many shots of the statue after having removed his shades baring deep blue eyes for the world to see.

* * *

"Father Hiiragizawa! Praised the Lord to have you finally here! How was your trip to Brazil?" - Greeted a man in his early fifties dressed in the robes of those of higher station than him who was addressed. 

"Father Hoffmann, it was a quiet trip thank you." - Said the younger man with a shallow bow of the neck.

"So tell me, what did you bring me?"

Both males were now seated around a table inside a richly furnished and fairly sized room in the company of another. An opened manila folder laid on top of other papers with photos strewn all over it.

"Why are you showing me photos of a crying statue when you were sent to investigate over the image of a virgin on the side of a building?"

Father Hiiragizawa pinched the bridge of his nose but showed no other signs of fatigue or discomfort. "I found that the image was nothing more than a mixture of oxide product of a leak in the pipe system and the citizen's imagination. When I was there, however, I caught word of this particular statue and set to investigate."

"This is important to us because?" - Asked Hoffmann with slight exasperation.

"This is not a fake. I've been traveling around the world investigating miracles and dismantling them but I think there's something real in this one," - began the young fellow and continued after seeing the arched eyebrow in the other man's face, "look at those pictures. They were taken with x-rays to see if the statue was hollow but it shows that it's made of pure stone and the tears are white because they're warm. I gathered samples of the liquid and the tests showed that its warm human blood."

This news seemed to be of little importance to the higher-stationed priest. "How many crying statues have we investigated in the past twelve months? Certainly too many that I've lost count. Did you bring it here?"

That was something that the traveler had intended to do but did not. "That statue is the foundation of those people's faith."

"The church is the foundation of faith. You should have brought it here so we could have it tested by a group of experts."

"Please send me back to Brazil," - pleaded the azure-eyed father, "I'd like to continue my investigation."

"That is of no consequence to us and it certainly wasn't in your assignment. Father Darien will give you instructions for your next assignment. Good day Father Hiiragizawa."

He was dismissed just like that but he could not retaliate.

* * *

It was eleven in the evening, there was humidity in the air and the streets of the Nishi-Azabu area in Tokyo were damp but that did not stop the throngs of people walking up and down the sidewalks with their minds set on destinations that only they knew about. 

At a table in the VIP area of club Yellow, one of the best in all of Tokyo, was a couple and a girl having a round of vodka while talking and laughing about one thing or another that more often than not had to be shouted over the loud music to make sure that they got the message across. A young woman with dark hair, almost black with shades of blue; and smoky-violet eyes was practically draped over a man with sandy brown hair and green eyes who had a cigarette between his kissable lips giving it a long pull.

"... And I met this totally gorgeous man at a park, well, rather bumped into him; and I was like 'wow'!" - Said the woman who had brilliant emerald eyes set in twin rows of long and thick eyelashes enhanced by dark eye shadow and mascara sitting across from the couple.

The raven haired woman let out a girlish giggle before downing another shot of vodka. "I say go for it, if you see him again that is."

"I don't think I can work up the nerve," said the other girl with a sudden rush of color to her cheeks that went completely unnoticed by the couple thanks to the bright laser lights in the building that made forms to blur and colors to mix.

The man was nibbling at his partner's right earlobe but the girl had enough presence of mind to reply. "Aw, don't worry about it... I'm sure you'll manage, I have faith in you, girlfriend!" - The last words coming out in a higher pitch because her boyfriend had hit a particularly sensitive spot on her neck.

A couple of hours went by in which the three of them enjoyed some other rounds of vodka and then decided to mix it with tequila, danced a bit and talked some more until they all deemed it a night.

"Are you too tired or want to go to my place?" - Slurred the smoky-violet girl with a sultry voice and seductive smile.

The man smirked and kissed her on the lips before replying. "I'm not dead yet babe."

"Will we catch up tomorrow for breakfast?"

"Don't we always, Sakura?" - Inquired her friend rather than answered while taking her purse from the table and keeping her boyfriend's hands from sneaking under her tight mini-skirt.

"You're right. See you at L'atelier!" - Beamed the one named Sakura unsteadily rising making an open declaration that she was indeed wasted for the night.

_Tsutsuku_

AN: Hello readers! I have to say that I wrote this in a whim after watching the movie. I am not entirely sure as to what I am aiming to with this and it has been a while since I last posted something so my writing might have become rusty. Still I would like for you to drop your comments in a review. This is in a trial stage so your opinions are highly appreciated.


	2. Wrists Nailed To The Crux

Disclaimer: this story is based on the movie of the same name and the characters of Card Captor Sakura, on neither of which I hold claim. This is for entertaining purposes only

**Stigmata**

_Wrists Nailed To The Crux._

Sunrays filtered through gauzy curtains inside a dim room making the lone figure snuggling within the thick snow white covers to stir up and moan. Lusciously curved dark eyelashes fluttered open like the wings of a butterfly revealing twin orbs of molten gemstones: amethyst.

Consciousness seemed to dawn upon the figure in a rush because the female bolted upright, lifted the covers off her body and looked downwards. Relief washed through her like cold aloe on burnt skin when her eyes met her very clothed body.

She let her boneless body fall onto the mattress and looked at the high ceiling of her bedroom with an arm over the forehead. Somehow it did not matter much to her to find that her boyfriend was absent when yesterday's events would suggest that they spent the night together. She saw in her mind's eye how they had came inside her loft with much difficulty on her part occupied as she was fumbling with her electronic key while keeping her man's wandering hands at bay and then nothing.

It seemed like her plan to unwind and be wild had fallen apart and she did not know whether to feel frustrated or thankful. Sakura had not approved of it, but this time she did not pay much attention to her friend's better judgment. Destiny and one too many cups of alcohol saved her virtue.

Would she see her boyfriend again? That was unknown.

A shrill sound interrupted her train of thought and her right hand shot towards the bedside table to pick up the phone before the racket it was making increased her headache. Now she remembered why she did not like to drink.

"Hello mom," – she greeted with little enthusiasm.

"How did you know it was me?" – The female voice at the other end of the line sounded shocked.

"By the way the phone rang, that's how." – A hand slid over her face and found it sticky. _Oh great, I slept with my makeup on… Fabulous!_

"I don't have much time, honey! I'm at Rio de Janeiro's Airport right now and my flight is about to take off; did you like what I sent you?"

Now she remembered the box carelessly tossed on her custom-made living room table. She dragged both legs over the side of bed and quickly donned her house-slippers to then rise on shaky legs and walk into the living. "Give me a second," – she said and took a letter opener in the shape of a snake made of silver to slice the brown package open with swift movements.

"Hurry sweetheart!" – Urged her mother over the phone.

After the tape gave away she opened the box and turned it upside down, scattering the contents over the table in the process. "The pictures are really beautiful mom… and what's this you sent me? A necklace?"

"Don't be silly! That's a Rosary! I was told it was Father Maurice's himself. He's a very popular priest in the town I just visited… anyhow, I hope you like it!" – Said the woman and added after a second to breathe, "I must go now… I'll be on business over Europe for a month or so. I'll try to call you. Be good and take care darling!"

The girl in Japan did not have a chance to reply. She was hanged upon by her own mother, no less! But that was of little importance to her being already used to her mother's antics and busy schedule. She just shrugged and walked back to the sanctuary of her room without giving a second glance at the beads of the Rosary glinting in the pale early morning light.

* * *

"Hey Tomoyo! Over here!" – Shouted an overly ecstatic emerald eyed girl with golden brownish hair that bounced with the frantic movements of her hand. 

Tomoyo gave her a small smile of long suffering but approached her bubbly friend with no animosity. It was tradition for the two childhood best friends to meet for breakfast every weekday at L'atelier since they began their working life as responsible adults, even if sometimes what they did could not be called responsible.

"How do you manage to look so fine with a major hangover? 'cause I know that you feel like donkey piss right now." – Said Sakura with a smile so bright that it could blind you.

The dark haired young woman took a seat across from her friend in the two-seater table located in front of a big paneled window offering the sight of passersby walking up and down the streets. "Morning to you too, girlfriend," – sarcasm lacing the dulcet tones of her voice, "what do you mean 'looking so fine'? A beggar must be looking much better than me right now for sure!" – Huffed Tomoyo and dropped her purse on the table.

"You were always hard on yourself. If I say you look fine it's 'cause you do. I have no need to suck up to you," – said Sakura with a shrug. "Ready to order?"

The energetic child had already waved a waiter over before Tomoyo could reply. "The thought of food makes me nauseous. I couldn't even drink my morning tea this morning… I might stick with coffee today."

The other girl gave her a sympathetic look and a pat on her hand before ordering a club sandwich with a vanilla latté. "So, what happened last night?"

"I don't know for sure. I guess we both fell asleep before we had time to do anything." – Replied Tomoyo as if it was everyday news.

"I can't believe you! He was pretty, how do I say it, aroused yesterday to have him fall asleep?"

"I know. But I woke up this morning fully clothed, untouched and with no male in sight." – A waiter had delivered her order and she was tearing open tiny artificial sweetener bags as she spoke.

"Well, better then. I told you it wasn't such a good idea in the first place. Seems like the stars heard me and prevented you from committing a stupid thing." – The way she said it made Tomoyo believe that she was feeling pretty smug about the whole thing.

"Whatever."

* * *

At age eighteen, Tomoyo Daidouji was told that, in order to get her father's inheritance, she had to make her own living and fend for herself for four years without any sort of help from the Daidouji fortune. Her father was known as a middle-class man with a knack for business that one day had a revelation and dropped everything he was doing to pursue his dream which after many years of hard work earned him the wealth and reputation that the Daidouji name now evoked with just the whisper of the word. Tomoyo's mother, Sonomi Amamiya, was an idealistic bright young woman who fell in love with Daidouji's charm and drive in life while Daidouji Hien found himself deeply attracted to the woman's no-nonsense approach to life. It was a relationship full of passion and love that almost cost Sonomi her own inheritance; but she could not care less at the time fully convinced that she could work her way to the things she wanted by herself. Both like-minded people had a wonderful marriage that lasted until death did them apart when Hien died of a heart attack when Tomoyo was only six years old. 

So, it all came as no surprise to her to hear of her father's last wishes for her. He was a hard-working man with a vision and she believed that he would expect the same from her. Her mother, however, was not sure about the whole thing but she settled into believing that if her late husband had such faith in their baby girl then so would she. It was really fortunate that Tomoyo was finishing her studies of high school and had been already accepted in Tokyo University into the School of Business, even if her real passions laid in art.

The week after she had turned eighteen had her moving out of the family manor and into a dorm with her childhood best friend, Sakura; who had been admitted into the School of Journalism, in their first act of independence. Tomoyo was thankful that she had decided to save a percentage of her allowances and birthday wages because it gave her a bit more time before she would be forced to search for a part-time job to pay for her personal expenses. Eventually she found a job with a jeweler as an assistant and it did not take much time for her employer to discover her talent giving her a designer promotion in a span of six months which boosted her income to afford a comfortable living.

After an afternoon of hard work, Tomoyo shut off the halogen desk-lamp in her station and took the messenger bag previously resting on the floor. She did a recognition scan with her eyes to make sure that everything was in its supposed place before turning around and exiting her workplace.

The evening was cold and she cringed at the icy air stinging her cheeks and nose giving them a rosy color that was highly fetching to the male population. With a brisk walk without veiling the grace behind the movements she headed towards the nearest subway station head bent on taking a hot bubble bath as soon as her feet touched home.

It took her thirty minutes to reach her haven and she wasted no time to place her book bag on a living room chair along with the coat before she undressed on her way to the bathroom. She got the hot water flowing and added a handful of salts and just the exact amount of bubble bath liquid to make the water foamy to her tastes. She lit all of the candles in the white-tiled bathroom and turned off the light giving a relaxing atmosphere to the room. She unhurriedly entered the tub mindful to not disturb the water and felt how her muscles, even those she did not know she had, relaxed in the warmth of the water. The long wavy hair was pinned atop her head by expert hands before she rested her neck against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes, breathing in the wonderful aroma of the many scented candles.

In an attempt to drown the sounds that reached her from the street, Tomoyo ducked her head underwater until it reached her temples; but she miscalculated and ended up being completely submerged. She paid it no heed at first and planned on resurfacing after a minute or two but then her mind got bombarded with hard to discern images that were highly disturbing to her sanity. Those images she could not comprehend and anxiety took hold of her. She tried to rise above the water but could not and heard her heart beating quickly in fear. Her hands flew everywhere in desperation, splashing water all over the place. She saw in her mind eye a hand getting nailed to a log with a primitive hammer of sorts again and again and she felt the pain as if it was done to her right before she lost her grasp on reality.

Water gushed over the edge of the bathtub.

It was stained with blood.

_Tsutsuku_

A/N: I wrote this during the course of the week. I'd wanted to update sooner but I had tests to prepare for and my leisure time was cut short. Please tell me what you think in a review!


	3. Bloody Whip

Disclaimer: this story is based on the movie of the same name and the characters of Card Captor Sakura, on neither of which I hold claim. This is for entertaining purposes only

**Stigmata**

_Second Stigma: Bloody Whip_

The pitter-patting of hurried feet echoed in the Hospital's hallway signaling a sense of hurriedness that did not go unnoticed by those within earshot. Sakura approached the front desk with air-blown hair, glowing cheeks from the exertion and in panted breath inquired about her best friend's whereabouts.

"By God, what happened!" – Asked one concerned strawberry-blonde haired woman trying to catch her breath and rearrange the wild hair in frantic motions.

There in front of her laid her one true friend on a hospital bed surrounded by so much white that it nearly blinded her while the smell of antiseptics made her sick to the stomach. A woman in a white lab coat tended to Tomoyo's wrists that were injured with deep gashes that went through bone and tissue making the injuries almost see-through.

The blood had stopped flowing, that much the newcomer could gather, but by the looks of obscene amounts of gauze and cotton-pads there most probably was an incredible amount of it; besides her friend looked rather pale, paler than usual.

"Looks as if these were made with a puncturing weapon, like a knife or ice-breaker." – Said the doctor with an air of speculation while turning over the wrist she held in hand to inspect it.

"Are you implying that I did this to myself?" – Asked Tomoyo going into defensive mode with furrowed eyebrows.

"I'm not implying, I'm sure." – Answered the doctor haughtily placing the wrist back on bed. "What I don't know is why you did it."

Sakura stood at the foot of bed in confusion and Tomoyo did not dignify the doctor with an answer; she just closed her eyes and looked to her left. The doctor left soon after.

"What the hell happened Tomoyo?"

She who had been spoken to gave her friend a look of suffering before saying, "I honestly don't know."

The dark-haired woman was to stay under observation in the E.R and during that time she explained in detail the events that happened after she left work earlier in the evening, or at least what she remembered. What happened to her was a mystery, no matter the amount of reasoning that both girls did and they were left speechless, brain-drained and with a headache; one from lack of blood and the other from overdoing the thinking.

* * *

Later in the week had Tomoyo wearing long-sleeved blouses and shirts to cover the bandages that turned crimson at the very touch for the wounds were still tender and brought her no small amount of discomfort.

She noticed how people at work and school looked at her weirdly and she knew that they were talking behind her back; but she paid them no heed and instead focused on a set of jewelry that, if deemed worthy, would get signed under the Fasion signature.

Sakura had made her promise that they would meet to watch a movie and catch up at six at Flags Mall so when the clock ticked five-thirty Tomoyo called it quits and exited her workplace with many a glance sent her way.

"'Bout time you came, girl! I thought you had cancelled on poor ol' me!" – Greeted Sakura with a pout-y expression that was practiced to perfection.

"Stop the theatrics hun, have I ever stood you up?" – Said Tomoyo with stern eyes but a smile blossomed on her lips.

"You've got a point… anyways, what took you so long?" – Asked Sakura while giving a glance to her pink faced LG 880 clamshell mobile checking on its status.

"Don't I always?" – Her voice sounded subdued but she was not, "don't look so dejected… what? No text from your darling wolf-boy?" – She taunted with a sneer.

Sakura was not perturbed, however. "No, not yet and I'm worried 'cause he promised to text me as soon as he landed in Hong Kong."

"Maybe the flight got delayed or the queue at the immigration stand is too long so don't worry girl." – At this, she patted her friend's shoulder and smiled reassuringly.

"Maybe…"

"Now, what did we come here for?"

"Oh yes, the movies! Let's move or they'll sell our tickets!"

Sakura wasted no time to grab Tomoyo's hand and dragged her towards the ticket stand. She did not notice the other girl's sharp intake of breath nor the added moisture to her own finger pads.

Hours later, after the movie had let out and the girls had satisfied their hunger with Subway sandwiches and Nestea; they began their journey towards the nearest subway station in their way home.

The train was not as crowded as one might expect but maybe it had something to do with the hour. Having been seated for hours on end, Tomoyo decided to stand up and support herself clutching a handle dangling from the roof.

Suddenly the lights flickered on and off and terror gripped the young woman's mind because with the lack of light came unbound a frightening flow of visions that assaulted her conscious. She lost her balance and made a grab to another handle across from her, making her having both arms spread towards opposite sides of the train.

She saw in her mind and unidentifiable someone getting whipped on the back without remorse or mercy. Blood trickled from the wounds and reached the lower back, soaking the cloth until it could not take any more.

At the far end of the wagon a Catholic Priest and Nuns watched the girl in shock, seeing how invisible forces whipped at her back, slashing fabric and skin open with the onslaught. Cries of pain and anguish filled the closed space spilling from her mouth and the few people there were rendered speechless and motionless.

In a burst of will, Tomoyo let go of the handles and staggered towards the Father who was a man of withered visage. She knelt in front of him unsteadily, barely keeping her torso upright.

"Eriol Hiiragizawa," – She said with a intonation of inquiry just above a whisper and the man looked at her in confusion before she blacked out.

A/N: Here is another chapter! I finished this in Trade Law class and I hope that you like it. Huge thanks to Akizuki Sai, DH, Particles of Sand and Asga. You have earned a place in my heart.


	4. Media Attack

Disclaimer: this story is based on the movie of the same name and the characters of Card Captor Sakura, on neither of which I hold claim. This is for entertaining purposes only

**Stigmata**

_Media Attack_

Sakura paced the small E.R room back and forth, threatening to consume the pale green tiles with the soles of her hungry shoes while a nurse tended to Tomoyo, who rested on her stomach exposing the hideous cuts on her back. The blood had begun to coagulate but it did not make the sight any less gruesome. Sakura looked on with pity wondering if her best friend's formerly perfect skin would be blemished after the wounds healed.

It was known by Sakura just how much attention Tomoyo put into her appearance; though not necessarily by choice. It was a habit that got drilled into her brain over the years spent under the wing of the Daidouji family. Females of such descent were not allowed the luxury of showing up in public with a less-than-perfect clean up and the young heiress had adopted that precept as a golden rule. She was not vain in nature, it just was something deemed as tradition in her family; a deep-ingrained tradition such as placing one's shoes at the entrance of a Japanese home.

This time the health-care provider did not ask about the reason behind such uncommon wounds; keeping her musings to herself and making both girls present a huge favor, for neither one of them was in the right state of mind to produce and answer even vaguely resembling something plausible or logical.

After the nurse left, Sakura sighed and approached her friend's right side towards which the pale face framed with curls of the deepest ebony was facing.

"I must tell you something that you won't like," – began Sakura wriggling her hands in front of her lap; "after you got unconscious, we had to ring the 119 and somehow along with the ambulance and paramedics too came the media."

This piece of knowledge, in Tomoyo's opinion, was taking bad things up a notch. "Did they ask questions?"

The strawberry-blond haired girl gave her a look that clearly meant _duh_ but still said, "of course they asked questions, many in fact… I managed to wiggle through the crowd and get to you into the ambulance; but there were some people, very scared people and attention-seekers at that, that were more than willing to feed them with answers."

Tomoyo closed her eyes and sighed tiredly. This, whatever it is this is, was getting messier by the minute and she did not like it. She had been good, had she not? So why was she going through all of this?

"For how long do I have to stay here?"

"The whole night."

* * *

A couple of hours after dawn had Sakura helping Tomoyo to dress over the pristine white bandages that covered her back. They had been recently changed but it will not take much pressure or movement to have the blood stain them again. The poor women did not have much sleep that night given their uncomfortable accommodations and the worry that loomed over their young minds. 

Walking down the hall that would lead both girls to the front doors of the medical facility, they were spotted by the same man who could do nothing but gap yesterday night when in the train. He still had the same withered expression but somehow managed to look even more haggard.

"Miss, can I have a word with you?" – He inquired after standing with a bit of effort; his junctures clearly were not what they used to be some ten years ago.

Sakura glanced at the other girl who was looking to the world as if she had lost all semblance of respect or regard toward any living thing. She had always envied the Daidouji composure and air of detachment with which the members of the family managed to act even in the direst of situations; but right now it seemed as though it had been too much to handle. "Whatever for?"

The priest, however, was not appalled by the youth's disrespect, "I'd like to talk about what's happening to you." – He sounded hopeful but it was not to last.

"I rather not, now if you excuse us," – she waved his petition off without a second thought and moved forward.

"Here's my card, Miss. Please call me when you feel like it."

Sakura took the offered piece of rectangular paper from the old hand with her dainty one and followed after her best friend after giving a sincere smile to the man.

* * *

Black robes seemed to glide through lavishly decorated corridors flanked by marble walls tipped in gold as polished shoes barely made a noise against the marbled floor. His movements were calm but did not veil the sense of hurry that flowed with each taken step. 

He was, by no means, cruising aimlessly in the building for he knew the place like the back of his very hand. In no time he would be standing in front of exquisitely carved, double-paneled oak doors that are to be opened to him after he made his presence known to the occupants.

The first thing he noticed upon entering the spacious and luxurious study was the deep frown etched in Father Houffman's forehead.

"Evening Father, what is it that you require of me?" – greeted the newcomer with flair. As he approached the desk he took notice of at least five different newspapers showcasing the headline of _subway terror: young Japanese stigmata bleeds to near death_ or some other phrasing that went along that line.

"Father Hiiragizawa, as you see here, our Catholic Church is facing some unrequited and unfavorable, not to mention unflattering publicity. These papers come from Tokyo and represent those of broadest circulation nationwide." – Explained the older man, pacing behind the desk to then settle in front of a huge paneled window. "The Vatican is worried that this media attack further damages the already blemished image of our beloved Church."

The azure-eyed man stayed silent, waiting for his superior to gather his thoughts, while surveying the pictures printed in full-color all over the front pages of the papers.

"The Vatican has decided to send you to Tokyo," – said Houffman turning on his heel to make eye contact with his subordinate. "Your mission is to investigate everything regarding this incident and put an end to all of this as soon as possible. You are to clean the image of this Catholic Church and stop anymore bad publicity like this from making its way to the media."

_What a pity!_ – thought the young priest. All that he really wanted was to conduct more research on the crying statue that he brought here all the way from South America. He knew that Houffman was not into it at all and he suspected that he would send him to do some inane task to make him drop the case. However, they would not go as far as to make up such a theatre for that sake alone so he might as well go and dig it up; besides something in those pictures called to him.

"If that's the case, then I'm on my way."

_Tsutsuku_

A/N: I want to give many thanks to those who review and would like to beg for those who do not, to just drop me a line; I get sad when no one does.


	5. Meeting

**Disclaimer:**previous disclaimers applies.

_Meeting _

It was Sakura's idea for both of them to take a day off from school and work so they could spend some twenty-four hours in relative peace while trying to search for answers to the dark haired woman's predicament.

Ever since a child, the youngest of the Kinomoto siblings displayed uncanny abilities regarding the spiritual world. Odd as it was, it did not shun her away from her family and friends; for somehow they took everything in stride quite well. Nadeshiko and Fujitaka Kinomoto had always believed that their daughter was special since the very day that she was born. Touya, the eldest brother, also had the ability to sense ghosts and talk to spirits and it was so strange that the siblings had such skills for their parents were rather plain and normal in the supernatural field; or so was believed.

That was the reason why that had Sakura seated on the floor in a plush carpet and across from her best friend shuffling a deck of cards using both hands with her eyes closed.

Tomoyo looked intently at the girl sitting in the middle of her fairly sized living room, shifting once in a while because it hurt to keep her back straight but she would not have it any other way. A slender hand brushed aside the bangs that tickled her eyes and rearranged them behind a rounded ear while swallowing in anxiety. This was not her first time in a session of Tarot-reading but she had not had the feeling of extreme apprehension before.

Sakura had said that she was going to try to prod the spirit realm for answers about the more than just strange happenings, drawing energy from her birth constellation while doing so.

So, with eyes that showed no surprise, Tomoyo saw how the room that was previously shrouded in complete darkness aside from two candles on either side of her friend, came lit with a handful of speckles of light that resembled fireflies that seemed stuck in time for they did not move and neither did they flicker.

With a movement full of a grace that most people did not believe her to possess Tomoyo was presented with the deck of cards as eerily luminescent jade eyes bore into her own. She reached out and separated it into two halves with her left hand and then handed it back to Sakura who gave a small nod of acknowledgement.

The cards where put down between both girls, one after the other, with utmost care and precision so they were perfectly aligned with each other. The smooth forehead framed by a strawberry-blond fringe and bangs creased as a pearly-pink manicured index finger hovered over the glossed lips in concentration.

"This is the first time that I feel unable to grasp the meaning of the cards," – said the medium with confusion lacing the honeyed voice, "I just don't know what to make out of this."

"What's wrong?" – Tomoyo was becoming worried but kept her visage and voice neutral so she wouldn't disturb the other girl's concentration any further.

"I don't know exactly," – said Sakura and removed the finger from her lips to reach for a card, "I can't tell exactly who or what is behind all of this but here says that it's big and that you're in danger…"

"What kind of danger? Will I die?" – She feared that she would.

Green eyes tore apart from the cards displayed on the carpet and linked with those of her best friend. "You could… but here also says that you won't be alone, someone will come to aid you."

"Someone? A he or a she?"

"It looks like a he to me, but it's not an ordinary person… this one is involved with the spiritual world too." – As the seconds ticked by she felt more and more confused by all of this.

They stayed in silence for a couple of minutes before Sakura spoke again, "I sense someone behind you, like a cloak of shadow and though the aura is a bit on the foreboding side, it doesn't seem all that evil to me; it's highly mystical."

"What am I supposed to do now? Wait until I bleed to death?"

"I understand your fear but we mustn't worry, aid is on its way."

With that the room returned to its previous absence of light and Sakura gathered the cards; silence reining supreme.

* * *

Some three days after the incident in the subway had Tomoyo still painfully aware of her healing back. She has changed her t-shirts and fancy tops for simple button up shirts of dark colors because they were easier to put on and the colors helped to camouflage the small stains of blood when she moved too much or when pressure was added to her back as a result of leaning against walls and chairs.

As promised, she was going to meet Sakura at her work so both of them would ride the subway together to their homes that had the same route for most of the way, so Tomoyo walked among the people crowding the sidewalk, occasionally bumping her shoulder into another while listening to the tunes loaded into her glassy white iPod.

The jingle of the small bells over the door alerted the staff located inside of the building of a new customer but where proved wrong when the raven-haired head of a girl they knew so well was the one to enter.

"Hi there Tomoyo! Feeling better?" – Asked Chiharu, the beauty-parlor owner and manager who used to attend the same classes as she in elementary through high school so they had become friends.

"Yes, much better now, thank you," – she replied while taking off her beret and placing it on the hanger, "hi everyone!"

After graduating from high school, Chiharu had studied two years of management before opening her salon with the help of her parents after much begging. The young woman with chocolate-brown eyes and cinnamon hair was rightfully overjoyed when she was able to pay her parent's loan in full with interests after ten months of successful operation that put the quaint business in the map of recognized beauty providers country-wide.

Sakura worked with her as lead nail-technician; a title she earned after taking many courses in her spare time. The girl was famous for her flawless and natural-looking works in UV gel and acrylic-gel as well as her nail-art skills.

The place was bustling with customers, which made Tomoyo smile genuinely. She approached the front desk where her friend was now answering a phone call with a look of discomfort on her pretty face.

"Is something the matter?"

"Oh Tomoyo, thank goodness you're here; I need you to make me a little favor," – said Chiharu with pleading eyes, "I'm having a problem with my tax lawyer and need to solve it right now… would you work the front desk for me?"

Who could refuse her?

With an encouraging smile Chiharu was sent on her way while Tomoyo positioned herself behind the glass and steel counter and read the day records.

The jingle of bells was heard inside again and the raven-haired girl raised her head to greet the newcomer with a welcoming smile. Said smile brightened to unheard of proportions when her eyes fell on the figure of a gorgeous man in front of her casually dressed in black. She could not see much of him for the cloak that he wore covered most of him up to the chin but it made his godlike face framed with midnight-blue hair and deep azure eyes behind rimless glasses to stand up; and his build was easily assessed in the way that the clothes fit his frame.

"Welcome to Chiharu's sir, how could we be of assistance?" – The melodious tones of her voice filled the space between them in the reception area, smiling throughout the short speech.

"Good afternoon, I'm here for a haircut if it's possible." – Was the man's answer in regards of how packed was the room.

Tomoyo inwardly cringed at how stupid she looked at the moment unable to will the flirtatious smile away along with the heat on her cheeks. "It's no problem sir; one of our ladies will be ready in five minutes. Why don't we take care of that cloak of yours now?" – She said and came behind him to help him get the garment off, "would you like some coffee or tea while you wait?"

"Tea would be nice." – Replied the man with a dashing smile that made all of the female onlookers swoon. However, when she assessed him without the cloak the first thing she noticed, as did her fellows, was the white neck in between the black collar; an unmistakably signal of his social status: Catholic Priest.

She wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole. Shame on her for flirting with a Father! After having him seated to his content, careful to not breach any of the etiquette of the place in her haste, she returned to her designated post at the front counter and made herself busy with this and that, willing Chiharu to return soon so she could go home without having to see the handsome face again.

But alas! Luck was not on her side that day, not that it ever was before but she could only hope, and an hour later of no Chiharu in sight, the girl of the amethyst eyes was faced with the task of charging the customer.

"How rude of me! May I know your name, Father, so I can fill this receipt?" – She asked with cheeks alight with color and throwing an apologetic smile for good measure.

He thought nothing of it and smiled in a way that her coworkers for the day thought to be disarming, "Eriol Hiiragizawa."

The Mont Blanc pen fell from numb fingers with a dry sound against the glass top.

A/N: I am so very sorry for taking this long but I was busy with academic-related things. Hopefully I will be able to post another chapter before the week ends; if not then it would most likely be in two weeks after that.


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